We have seen a number of examples in the preceding chapters of family playing a crucial role in a woman’s decision to join the order of nuns. Bhadda shared with her husband an equal desire to become a renunciant, and together they put on robes and shaved their heads; Dhammadinna and Capa followed in their husbands’ footsteps by becoming nuns; Pajapati’s daughter, Sundari-Nanda, joined the order because all her kin had done so; Mutta joined to escape from the three crooked things, one of which was her husband; Sundari, like her father, became ordained because of grief over the death of her brother. These are but a few examples which show the influence of family in motivating a woman to become a nun.

Not only did a woman’s family play a large role in effecting her decision to become a nun, but her friends also could be a major force. The term mitta (“friend”) is used with several different meanings in the Buddhist Canon. We could say that these various meanings are tied to the three treasures of Buddhism—Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. In the Mahavagga, the Buddha describes himself as the “Good Friend” and counsels his disciples to understand that friendship with “the good,” that is, with the Buddha’s teaching, is the complete holy life.1 The Buddha is the quintessential “Good Friend” in the sense of being the one who leads others to “friendship” with the Dharma. These are two ways the term “friend” or “friendship” is used. In this chapter, friendship is meant in the more ordinary sense of the word: the deep liking and appreciation of one for another. In this respect, friendship has an affinity with the third treasure, Sangha. It was on account of a special friendship that various women joined the community of nuns.

It is very touching that the theme of friendship should appear and reappear in the Therigatha. Two nuns have the name “Mitta”. The nun Kisagotami praises friendship in the opening lines of her poem:

With good friends even a fool can be wise.
Keep good company and wisdom grows.
Those who keep good company can be freed from suffering.

Nuns especially had the opportunity to develop deep friendships. It was an offense for a nun not to “leave at hand’s reach a nun who is a companion.” This rule, intended for the protection of the nuns, meant constant association and interaction. The women’s physical proximity could sometimes be the occasion for intimate friendships. In light of the importance of friendship, the Buddha devotes an entire discourse to this theme, teaching that:

One who says, “I am your friend” but does not take upon herself any tasks she is capable of doing, is to be recognized as no friend. But she on whom one can rely, like a child sleeping on its mother’s breast, is truly a friend who cannot be parted from one by others.2

Friendship is a marvelous gift with its capacity to free a person from suffering, to establish a trust as deep as a child’s trust for its mother. In this chapter we meet women who are such friends: Sama, the companion of Samavati, who renounces the world at the death of her friend; Abhaya, childhood friend of the prostitute Padumavati; Vijaya, friend of the brilliant and beautiful Khema. In each case their friendship led them to the Buddhist teaching, and hence, freed them from suffering. Then we have the poems of three women who were biological sisters—Cala, Upacala, and Sisupacala. These are the only women in the Therigatha known to have been related in this way.

SAMA

Sama came from Kosambi. One of the things she valued most in her life was the love of her friend, Samavati, who was known for her devotion to the Buddhist path and for her kindness. But Samavati died tragically and, in her grief, Sama chose to renounce the world, becoming a Buddhist nun.

Actually, there are two women in the Therigatha with the name Sama, and there is some confusion as to their identities. Both were from Kosambi, both were said to have been friends of Samavati, both supposedly joined the community of nuns in grief over the death of their friend. To add still one more layer of confusion, Samavati’s name can also be shortened to Sama. It is possible that there really were two different women who came from Kosambi, who were friends of Samavati, who became nuns, and who composed two very similar poems. But it seems more likely that the two poems attributed to two different women named Sama are two different versions of one poem, and that we are actually talking about one woman. Nothing more is known about the nun(s) Sama.

If the company a person keeps reflects something of her own character, then knowing more about Samavati is a way to learn a little more about Sama. Samavati was a prominent laywoman of the early Buddhist community. She came from a merchant’s family of Bhaddavati. When plague broke out there, the family fled to Kosambi, but within a matter of days, her parents developed the symptoms of the disease and died. Samavati was adopted by Ghosaka, a family friend who was treasurer to King Udena.

Samavati grew to become a beautiful young woman. One day Udena, whose kingdom was all of Kosambi (located about one hundred miles south and east of Pasenadi’s kingdom of Kosala), met Samavati, fell in love with her, and asked his subject Ghosaka to give her to him. Ghosaka refused. In retaliation, Udena had Ghosaka and his wife turned out of their home. Concerned for their plight, Samavati made the decision to go to Udena and become one of his chief consorts. In addition to her, Udena had two other consorts, Magandiya and Vasuladatta. He would spend a week at a time with each.

Samavati’s rival, Magandiya, had originally been offered to Siddhartha Gautama, when he was visiting Kosambi in his ninth rainy season as a religious teacher. But the Buddha, by then well established in his renunciation and life work, refused, calling Magandiya a “corpse, a bag of filth.”3 It was after this that Magandiya was given to Udena. Based on her particular experience, she may well have had legitimate doubts about the authenticity of this renunciant Gautama’s compassion, at least as far as it concerned her or perhaps women in general.

Samavati, on the other hand, had an entirely different perspective on the Buddha. She first learned of his teachings through her slave woman, Khujjuttara. Samavati used to regularly give eight coins to Khujjuttara, four of which were to be used for flowers to decorate her home, and four of which were for Khujjuttara to keep. When, one day, Samavati found the house overflowing with flowers, she asked why. It turned out that Khujjuttara had spent all her money that day on flowers, out of joy in hearing, for the first time, the Buddha preach. Khujjuttara then preached to Samavati and all her women attendants, and every single one was converted. They begged Khujjuttara to be their teacher, to go to the discourses the Buddha gave, and return and teach them. Because Khujjuttara, as a slave, had greater freedom of mobility than the more confined upper-class woman, she could do this. So Khujjuttara went, and became renowned for knowing the Tipitaka, the Buddhist canon, by heart, and for her ability to preach the Dharma. Through her, Samavati became a devout disciple.

We can imagine that the devotion Samavati showed to the Buddha’s teachings would not have endeared her to Magandiya. This tension would have been in addition to the strain of being co-wives (a verse from Kisagotami’s poem comes to mind: “How hard it is to be a woman. / It is hard to be one wife among others...”) When Magandiya could bear it no longer, she framed a conspiracy in which Samavati would be accused of an attempted assassination of Udena. This backfired, and by way of apology, Udena granted Samavati a special favor, whatever she desired. Samavati asked Udena to allow the Buddha to come each day to the palace and preach to her and her attendants. This must have enraged Magandiya all the more. In this state, Magandiya set fire to a house inside of which Samavati and her companions were locked. No one escaped. Afterwards, the Buddha acknowledged that these deceased women had attained important levels of realization, some the first, others the second, and still others the third stage of the path of realization.

It was after these events that Sama, in sorrow, renounced the world. For twenty-five years, her mind was always distracted while in meditation, but finally Sama attained the fourth and highest stage of the path, becoming an arahaat. Following is one of the two similar poems attributed to a nun named Sama.

It was twenty-five years since I turned away from home and I hadn’t had a moment’s peace.
I had no peace because I didn’t know my own mind.
Then suddenly I was shaken with dread, remembering the words of the conqueror.
Because of the pain of things I love to be alert.
I have finished with craving. The Buddha’s teaching has been done. It is the seventh day since my craving died.

ABHAYA

Abhaya was a childhood friend of Padumavati (see Chapter Eight). Both women grew up in Ujjeni, and must have been very dear friends, as Abhaya followed Padumavati in joining the order of nuns.

Abhaya’s name means “without fear.” In the Pali Canon and the Upanishads, a person who has realized the highest truth is referred to by the epithet abhaya. It is an appropriate name for this nun, as she is the only one among the nuns whose enlightenment occurs while contemplating either a corpse or the remains of a corpse. This detail is alluded to in her poem and is mentioned in the Therigatha Commentary. The precise practice, described in the Visuddhimagga, is called a “Buddhist Meditation on the Tenfold Foulness of the Corpses.” Some of these ten foulnesses include:

…the swollen corpse, as demonstrating the downfall of the shape of the body...beneficial for one who lusts after beautiful shapes; the bluish corpse, as demonstrating the ruin of the color of the skin...beneficial for one who lusts after the beauty of the skin; the gnawed corpse, as demonstrating the destruction of the once proud outlines of the protrusions of the flesh, is beneficial for one who lusts after the protrusions of the flesh, at the breasts or in similar parts of the body; the worm-eaten corpse, by demonstrating that the body belongs in common to manifold kinds of worms...beneficial for one who lusts after his body with the thought, “this is mine.”

After going through the complete list of ten, the meditation instruction continues:

Therefore, as regards its unclean, evil-smelling, loathsome and repulsive condition, there is no difference between the body of a king and that of an outcast. When, with the help of toothpicks, by washing the face,...when one has covered up the private parts with various garments, when one has anointed the body with sweet-smelling ointments of the most various colors, when one has adorned it with flowers, ornaments, and suchlike, then one manages to give it an appearance which makes it possible to seize upon it as ‘I and mine.’ Hence it is because they do not perceive the mark of abominableness, which characterizes the true and proper nature of the body, but is concealed for them by the adventitious adornments, that men take delight in women, and women in men. But in reality there is in the body not even the tiniest spot that would be worth regarding as delightful.5

Such a meditation surely was for one “without fear.” It was a rule of the Order that nuns, unlike monks, were not allowed to meditate in burial grounds. Abhaya’s meditation and enlightenment might have taken place before this rule existed. She may have stretched the rule to meet her need. Or she may have meditated on images of bones or corpses which, though not in burial grounds, were sights of everyday experience.

Abhaya, this body, that ordinary people cling to is so fragile.
With full attention, completely aware, I will throw this body down.
Because of the pain of things I love to be watchful.
I have finished with craving. The Buddha’s teaching has been done.

VIJAYA

Vijaya was a very dear friend of Khema, who was considered to have had the clearest insight (see Chapter Three). Born in Rajagaha, Bimbisara’s capital city, Vijaya was from a humble background. Khema, by contrast, had grown up in luxury. Yet the bond between them was so strong that when Khema decided to become a nun, Vijaya, having listened to Khema’s teaching, came to the same resolve. And like Khema, Vijaya was naturally gifted and swiftly realized the highest truth.

Vijaya was one among the nuns whom Mara attempted to seduce by taking the form of a beautiful young man. He told her that she was young and attractive, that he was too, and that they should enjoy each other. Vijaya’s reply was in keeping with her discipline. She said, “I delight in observing emptiness, the unreality of the body, and don’t desire your soft touches. My ignorance is dispelled.” Mara, having no power over her, went away.

In the fifth stanza, Vijaya’s religious experience is expressed in the formulaic style of the Buddha’s enlightenment verses. Her insight deepens during three stages of the night, from the first watch (the hours from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m.), through the middle watch (10 p.m. to 2 a.m.), to the last watch of the night (2 a.m. to 6 a.m.).

Four or five times I left my cell. I had no peace of mind, no control over mind.
I went to a nun and respectfully asked her questions.

She taught me the Dharma, earth, water, fire and air, the nature of perception, the Four Noble Truths, the faculties, the powers, the seven qualities of enlightenment, and the eightfold way to the highest goal.
When I heard her words I followed her advice.

In the first watch of the night, I remembered I had been born before. In the middle watch of the night, the eye of heaven became clear. In the last watch of the night I tore apart the great dark.

Then I lived with joy and happiness filling my whole body and after seven days I stretched out my feet having torn apart the great dark.

CALA, UPACALA, AND SISUPACALA

Cala, Upacala, and Sisupacala were biological sisters. Cala was the eldest, Upacala the middle, and Sisupacala the youngest sister. Their older brother was Sariputta, the great monk. All were children of the brahman Surupasari, and lived in Magadha in the village of Nalaka. When Sariputta joined the Buddha’s order, his sisters, in admiration, said, “If Sariputta follows this path, it is no ordinary way,” and the three decided to become Buddhist renunciants as well. Though we know no further details about their lives, we can glimpse something of their character and relationship in the similarity of their poems. Not only are all three poems dialogues with Mara, the last three stanzas in each are practically identical.

In each of the poems, Mara is the evil antagonist. Having already met this figure, Mara, in a number of Therigatha poems, a few words about him are in order. Mara dominates Pali Buddhist demonology. Mara literally means “death.” He is the embodiment of death and temptation, especially the temptations of passion and evil. Sometimes the term “mara” is applied to the whole of worldly existence, the world of rebirth, as opposed to nirvana. Mara is frequently personified as a single male figure, though he is sometimes accompanied by his armies or his three seductive daughters. He has the power, in common with other yakkhas and spirits of the Buddhist mythological pantheon, to change shape at will as a part of his efforts to seduce or destroy. In the Mahavastu he is called the “great yakkha,” the great spirit.7

Mara does not appear in earlier Hindu mythology. In fact, “no conception equivalent to Mara is to be found in Indian mythology.”8 The Mara legend is closely connected with the Buddha. The Buddha overcame Mara—death and samsara—by his enlightenment. Henceforth, for the Buddha, like other enlightened arahaats, there would be no more rebirths. A poetical stock phrase is used to proclaim this fact, a phrase repeated in the poems of the three sisters, and occurring also in the poems of Uppalavanna, Soma, Sela, and others; “And Death / you too are destroyed.” The phrase is indicative, not of conflict, but of dismissal. The enlightened ones are entirely unassailable by Mara, because they have the power simply to ignore him. To do so is to dismiss him. A common stock phrase is voiced by Mara when he has been foiled: “Janati mam Bhagava, janati mam Sugato!” “The Lord knows me! The Righteous One knows me!” In the following dialogue poems, Mara’s role is to tempt, to confuse, to seduce, to lead astray.

An aspect of Cala’s poem also deserves special attention. In the third and fourth stanzas, the notion of “views” is mentioned: “All those outside the way depend on views...He taught me the way—the complete overcoming of views.” A view, ditthi, is a belief, dogma, theory, religious teaching or ideology. On one level, there are “right” and “wrong” views (ditthi-pata and miccha-ditthi). Clearly, the Buddhist disciple wants to choose the “right” view, the teachings of the Buddha. But on a subtler level, she or he wants to completely overcome views. This is what Cala describes in the fourth stanza; it is what is meant in the famous Zen Buddhist koan, “When you meet the Buddha, kill the Buddha”; and again by Gautama’s purported dying words, “Be a lamp unto yourself.” The idea is one of nonattachment to any fixed belief, even belief in the Buddha himself! This is a highly iconoclastic notion, but one suited to a renunciant tradition such as early Buddhism.

Some scholars feel that “overcoming all views” is the Buddha’s earliest teaching. The four atthakas (octets) of the Atthakavagga, arguably the oldest strata of the Pali Canon, do not mention what we consider basic doctrines of early Buddhism (nirvana, samsara, the skandhas, etc.), but instead lay particular emphasis on the importance of overcoming all views. In his essay “The Octets of the Atthakavagga” Nelson Foster writes,

For the Gautama of the atthakas to be bound to even one view was to fall headlong into the trap of accepting and rejecting. Gautama’s preponderant attention in the atthakas to views, as opposed to pleasures, [makes it] legitimate to conclude that later Buddhism distorted the original teaching, expanding and warping Gautama’s stand on pleasures to make it serve new purposes and underplaying the profundity of “no views.”9

Though this statement is provocative, there is abundant evidence to support the position that the Buddha originally taught the danger of sense pleasures, as well as the concept of “no views.” But Foster’s point, drawn from the evidence of the earliest strata of the Pali Canon, underscores the respect for the notion of “no views” by the earliest community of believers. That the idea of “no views” might have been later overshadowed relative to cutting out craving and passion was probably only natural in a celibate community.
Whether “no views” is an original teaching or not, it is the central message of Cala’s poem. In Upacala’s poem the concern is with sensual pleasure and the cycle of birth and rebirth, and Sisupacala’s poem emphasizes the theme of birth and death.

CALA

[Cala:]
I, a nun, trained and self-composed, established mindfulness and entered peace like an arrow. The elements of body and mind grew still, happiness came.

[Mara:]

Who told you to shave your head? You look like a renunciant to me— why do you practice this nonsense?
[Cala:]

All those outside the Way depend on views. They don’t know the Dharma. They have no real understanding. But in the Sakya clan the unrivaled Buddha was born. He taught me the Way— the complete overcoming of views: pain, the cause of pain, the end of pain, and the great Eightfold Way that stills all pain. When I heard his words I rejoiced. The three knowledges have been realized. The Buddha’s teaching has been done. Everywhere the love of pleasure is destroyed, the great dark is torn apart, and Death, you too are destroyed.

UPACALA

[Upacala:]

I was a nun mindful, clear-sighted, and self-composed. There is a peace that evil does not know and I entered peace like an arrow.

[Mara:]
What’s wrong with being born? From that, we have the pleasures of the flesh. Take your delight while you can— if you don’t, you’ll regret it.

[Upacala:]

We are born into death— the severing of hands and feet, slaughter, bonds, and torment; we are born into pain. But someone who cannot be conquered was born in the Sakya clan. He is enlightened. He taught me the Way— how to overcome birth completely: pain, the cause of pain, the end of pain, and the great Eightfold Way that stills all pain. When I heard his words I rejoiced. The three knowledges have been realized. The Buddha’s teaching has been done. Everywhere the love of pleasure is destroyed, the great dark is torn apart, and Death, you too are destroyed.

SISUPACALA

[Sisupacala:]
A nun who has self-possession and integrity will find the peace that nourishes and never causes surfeit.

[Mara:]
The deities of the Heaven of the Thirty-Three10 where Indra rules, the deities who are free from misery, the deities who have attained bliss, the happy creators who make their own pleasure, and the deities who control what others create; turn your mind to those places where you lived before.

[Sisupacala:]
Time after time, from life to life, the deities of the Heaven of the Thirty-Three where Indra rules, the deities who are free from misery, the deities who have attained bliss, the happy creators who make their own pleasure, and the deities who control what others create, lead individual lives, but cannot free themselves, chasing after birth and death. The whole world is burning. The whole world is in flames. The whole world is blazing. The whole world shakes. But the Buddha taught me the unshakable Way. Ordinary people don’t practice it, and there is nothing to which you can compare it. When I heard his words I lived in the joy of the teaching. The three knowledges have been realized. The Buddha’s teaching has been done. Everywhere the love of pleasure is destroyed, the great dark is torn apart, and Death, you too are destroyed.